


Fly By Night

by chewysugar



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Banter, Crossover, F/M, Family, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Married Couple, Racing, Street Racing, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 16:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: It isn't entirely legal but Bruce isn't about to turn down the chance to reunite with an old friend.





	Fly By Night

_In the neighborhood. I’m bored._

Five letters via text. If Bruce hadn’t been chasing sleep, he never would have heard the ping from his Android. Past one was no big whoop for someone who kept the hours and appearance of a vampire bat. But the sender usually liked being in bed by eleven unless he could absolutely help it. Once upon a time in both his and Bruce’s younger days, they’d do all-nighters no sweat. Now, well...the Batman’s Reason Why Not lay sleeping serenely 'neath Egyptian cotton not a foot away. And as for the messenger, last Bruce had heard his _raison d'être_ was family above all else. Families like being in bed at a reasonable time.

Their reunion must have been of great import. It sure as hell had Bruce smiling in a way he’d only trusted himself to do quite recently. Even with a network across the continents he still had a full plate, and the chance to get out and do something frivolous was one that he couldn’t pass up. Not for this particular individual.

_You’re on._

He had a pair of sweats and a t-shirt on when the reply message came.

_Catch me if you can._

Oh, so now it was a bet. Bruce had loved a challenge back then. And as he padded out of the room on bare feet, he couldn’t help but feel like a careless man of twenty-one again. He was, in fact, so consumed at the thrill of this little adventure that his senses weren’t up to their usual par. Had they been anything of the kind and he’d have realized that his lady love wasn’t really asleep. Indeed, he’d have heard her shift on the King-size as he slipped out the door; and he’d most certainly have seen her sit up, cross her arms, and shake her head.

Unfortunately, he missed all of that. He also missed her muttered, wryly amused, “Boys and their toys, no matter how old.” Selina reached for her own phone and sent a text to a number she’d heard from just that afternoon.

_They’re doing it again._

And a moment later, _Way ahead of you, pussycat._

By that time, Bruce had already sped through the halls of his home and to the garage—the mundane garage that was the envy of most people the world over. It would be a hot day in Whitehorse before he ever resorted to the makes and models of the subterranean garage. Even though it wasn’t a secret between himself and his old friend, dragging out a Bat-vehicle wouldn’t be fair.

Instead, he settled for a healthy dose of substance and style—a ‘65 NOVA Twinn Turbo. Electric blue, with a Renesis Rotary and some ZEX appeal for splash and dash. New tires with chrome added just enough danger to attract the right law enforcement officials and the wrong kinds of civvies. Nothing much to sneeze at—a pet project of Tim’s. Bruce had forbidden it from being on the streets in broad daylight, lest Gordon have an aneurysm. But it was good training for the Robins; and tonight, it would probably make one Dominic Toretto either hurl with jealousy or pop wood in appreciation.

Windows down, tunes pumping in uncharacteristic ostentatiousness, the NOVA hummed down the drive, out the gate, and on into the night. Inside, Bruce relaxed against the leather seat, and set his Android to the ventilation mount.

Not even a patrol car shared the road. A pity, as it would have been exciting. But the less trouble they both got in, the better. And when Bruce neared the lights leading to the tunnels, he felt inwardly thankful for the absence of GCPD cars.

A Fiat pulled up, silver as new money. It purred like a stalking panther, headlights shining with blazing ego. Bruce rolled the NOVA’s window down, and met the gaze of one of those he considered close as kin.

Dom was smiling like a kingpin. “Nice jalopy, gramps.”

Bruce smiled right back. “We’re the same age, Dominic.”

“Call me that again and you ain’t gonna live to get older, Brucie.”

“Ouch,” Bruce drawled. “Right in the gentles with that one.”

Dom laughed, the sound like a sleek, well oiled engine. The years had been kind to him, but only because Dom had been kind in return. Bruce would have said that their paths had diverted after the days when Dom had taught him everything under the sun about the art of cars; but Dom wasn’t bad. He never had been. And if he was, then Bruce didn’t dare call himself good. Not when his methods were often as precise and brutal as a tracheotomy.

“Good to see you, brother.”

Bruce grinned. “You here for a long time?”

“Just a good time.”

“I’ll make it count then.” He made the NOVA sing with just a tap of the gas. God, if the boys saw this, they’d think he’d been replaced by a doppelgänger. He’d never shared his days riding alongside the Toretto family with anyone. It was just assumed that Bruce Wayne knew vehicles like he knew fine scotch. But if it hadn’t been for Dom, there would be no Batmobile, no motorcycles, no flying machines. Hell, there wouldn’t be a Bruce Wayne. Dominic Toretto had been the one to set the finish line in Bruce’s long road to perdition. He’d tampered the thirst for vengeance without really knowing it. All because he’d let a poor little rich boy become a member of his family.

“Where to?” Bruce asked.

Don nodded at the tempting mouth of the tunnel. “There’s a LEGO set at the end of this drag.”

“The sportsplex?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it, then yeah.”

“Hey now, I donated good money to that.”

“I’d hate to see what it looks like with bad money.”

“I posed for the sexy calendar we sold for the fundraiser.”

Dom smirked. “Is that the most exciting thing to happen to you, or the second most exciting thing?”

“Kicking your ass at this might take the cake.”

Now it was Dom’s turn to rev the engine. Bruce hadn’t been expecting to race against new wheels; but if the NOVA had anything going for it, it was a deceptive skeleton.

“Put your billions where your mouth is, Brucie.”

“I might.”

“First one to pull up in front of the construction site,” Dom said. “No ramming.”

“Or mudslinging.”

“Whatever you say, bitch.”

Bruce shook his head, and gripped the wheel. “You never did listen.”

“And you never won against me.”

“Ready?”

Dom arched an eyebrow, as if the question didn’t even warrant answering. He rolled his windows down, and counted down on his fingers: _three...two...one..._

In the first ten seconds of propulsion, Bruce lost everything. This was a sensation he couldn’t train his mind against; and even if he could, he wouldn’t have wanted to. In the sphere of speed, he wasn’t Batman or Bruce Wayne. He was just fast. It was an intoxicating rush, one that kept Dom and his family in the game despite the odds.

And as it didn’t last very long, it became the dragon chased by all those who made the streets a beast to be tamed. After losing the rush, one had to be in control again. Bruce had handled bigger bodies than the NOVA, raced actual foes compared to Dom Toretto, and had bigger stakes than being king of the castle. Still, he’d left something of his present soul back at the tunnel’s entrance, and he didn't much feel like going back for it.

Music blared around him; lights flashed by at the speed of sound. His tires devoured concrete, and the car hummed like a pleased lover. It wasn’t enough to be fast; Dom’s Fiat was neck-and-neck—a silver stallion with a cocksure jockey at the reins.

His Android rang; Bruce took one hand from the wheel to answer.

“This is distracted driving,” he said pleasantly.

“You’re going easy on me,” Dom replied.

Bruce pushed the speed. Gauging the time just right, he swerved in front of the Fiat, gaining the lead.

“Don’t push it,” he said.

“Gonna pay for that.”

“Lucky me I’ve got a big, hard, throbbing...bank account.” Yeah. Dick, Jason and Tim would definitely think he’d been brainwashed if they heard this banter. It couldn’t be helped. Dom brought out the shadow self in Bruce.

“Choke on this, Rich Boy.” Dom fell back a pace. Bruce narrowed his eyes in the rear view. The son of a bitch darted into the opposite lane, and disappeared down an exit.

“Giving up, cueball?” Bruce wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was a pretzel of a freeway up there. Dom skip the bridge exit, would find the entrance to the tunnel and come out ahead. What was more, he knew that Dom knew that he knew. So he stayed the course, cruising down the empty tunnel. But when he passed the exit from the bridge, and the Fiat wasn't there, he allowed a moment of worry.

Narrowing his eyes, he cut across the six lanes. He pealed his vision for the exit ahead and—just in time pulled to the side as the Fiat careened down from an entrance road. Which meant Dom had hopped a meridian at some point, risking thousands of dollars of undercarriage. Which meant this was, in fact, his car. He’d forgone stealing wheels that he didn’t want to repair himself.

“Yeah!” Dom roared over the phone. “ _Chupa mi nueces, perra_.”

Bruce laughed—high octane and wild and perfectly uncharacteristic. “Your mother,” he said for lack of anything to shoot back with.

The road started to raise. They’d be leaving the tunnel soon. But if Dom knew how to be a daredevil in his driving, Bruce knew Gotham City like the Pledge of Allegiance. Dom would take the main drag to the construction site because that was what he knew. Bruce? Well, he didn’t need a GPS to navigate the side streets, back allies and makeshift paths of his home city.

Both cars emerged from the tunnel at the same time, both dead even. Blue ethanol flowed from the spout of Dom’s twin exhaust pipes.

“Eat it, NOSferatu.” Dom crowed. He pulled ahead of the NOVA like a dragon.

“Oh no!” Bruce gasped. “Oh help me! Help me!” He cranked the wheel hard to the left. The NOVA drifted like the surf, its tires straightening just in time to send Bruce careening down an alley. The space was just big enough to fit the car. In the headlights, he saw stray cats and the odd bum scurry for cover. Served them right. He saved their skins three-sixty-five out of a year. Just this once he could pretend like he gave less than a shit about their welfare.

“Bad form,” Dom said via the phone. “Lost in your own city? That’s gotta smart.”

“The only thing losing here,” Bruce replied as he turn a sharp right and emerged onto a street near a fenced off construction yard, “is you.”

Dom’s Fiat came around the first corner to Bruce’s right. The only thing between them was yet another alley, blocked off by two tall buildings.

Knowing that it wasn’t over til it was over, both men ground gas to floor.

Headlights cut the space between them. The construction site glowed like the the belly of a UFO. An engine separate from the NOVA and the Fiat triumphantly announced itself. Something sleek, solid and white as the beaches of Oahu cruised past both Bruce and Dom.

“Cock blocked?” Dom said in mock-outrage.

Bruce pulled the NOVA to a halt, braking just in time to avoid swiping the Camaro.

“Caught with my pants down,” he sighed. He stepped out of the NOVA. Dom cautiously alighted from his Fiat. Bruce felt inwardly grateful that the other man hadn’t drawn a gun:

The Camaro’s door opened. Wearing a button up over her bra and the boy shorts she’d slept in, Selina cast Bruce and Dom a beatific smile.

“Is this a boy’s only club, or am I allowed to play too?”

“How’d you know where to find us?” From the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Dom regarding Selina as if she were a prized Lambo at an auction.

Selina counted down on each finger. “I wasn’t really asleep; I saw you drive away; you only take that beast out when you want to break the law; and...oh yes...” She banged twice on the roof of the car. “We crossed wires.”

And out from the passenger side stepped the svelte, smirking form of Letticia Ortiz-Toretto. She wore her tank top and pajama bottoms like a Victoria Secret runway find.

“You were supposed to be asleep,” Dom scolded.

“I had bad dweam,” Letty said with an affected impediment. She nodded at Selina. “Sue me if Sel, here, was there for me in my time of need.”

“It’s not often I get to be someone’s hero, Letty.” Selina grinned. Trust me when I say that I savored every moment of the ride.”

Dom turned to Bruce. “Your girl’s making a move on my girl.”

“We’re going to have to duke it out,” Bruce sighed.

Letty licked her lips. “Our boys are going to get rough, Sel.”

“Damn, and here I am without any baby oil.”

She sauntered over to Bruce, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Arms around his neck, she brushed her index finger over the chapped petals of his mouth. “Why, groom,” she said teasingly, “you’re actually smiling.”

He shrugged. “I’m happy.” He glanced to the almost mirror sight of Dom kissing Letty on the forehead. As much as the man had educated him in the make and handling of motor vehicles, he’d done so, so much more. He’d showed a broken, angry young man the importance of family. It was because of Dom Toretto—because of Letty and Han; because of Brian and Mia and Vince and all the others—that he’d found the capacity to trust...to love. He wouldn’t have Selina without Dom; and he certainly wouldn’t have had his Robins.

“That’s good.” Selina glanced to the Toretto’s. “I still think you could wipe the floor with him.”

“I heard that, Selina,” Dom said. “And I was the one who taught Ritchie Rich there everything he knows.”

“Neither of you crossed the finish line,” Selina said. “The race is still on if you’ve got enough to go another round.”

Letty nodded at the Camaro. “I call this machine.” She strode towards it as if the matter were already settled.

Dom frowned. “But the Fiat—

“Take that bougie piece of shit if you want,” Letty said. “I’d like to look good once we hand these two their sorry asses.”

“ _Bougie_?” Nevertheless, Dom knew better than to pretend like he wore the pants. He followed Letty like a puppy, and took passenger’s side.

“What about the Fiat?” Bruce asked.

Dom shrugged like the crazy, careless bastard he was. Someone would probably swipe it if the GCPD didn’t pick it up. And Dom either had a supply of replacements the world over, or the money to get a better ride in due time.

“Kill all the people,” Selina said to Bruce. But Bruce shook his head. He plopped the keys into her hand, and said, “That’s entirely up to you, my charioteer.”

“Battle of the sexes? How punk rock.” She slid behind the steering wheel as if it had been made for her. Bruce watched from the passenger’s side, that thrill boiling in his blood. Selina and Letty pulled up next to each other, the half-finished sportsplex spreading in front of them.

Selina made the NOVA rumble. Bruce saw Dom’s gloating face through the window.

Then they were off, all four losing themselves to the rush of potential as their cars cut through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
